“Little Princess”

Not Another Grim(m) Tale: The Rights of Passage in Marie von Olfers’ “Little Princess” By Bernadette H. Hyner f we accept, as Edward Said suggests, that the terms authorship I and authority both emphasize a writer’s capacity to establish an alternative discourse, control, and preserve it, then Marie von Olfers is best remembered as a tale spinner who redrafts conventional gender designations in her fairy tales.1 Specifically, her narrative “Little Princess,” published in 1862, presents alternative interpretations of female agency and sisterhood, while it also debases traditional concepts of family. Von Olfers’ unusual reading of these topics suggests that she construes family and rites of passage in response, perhaps even in opposition, to her male predecessors’ more traditional approach to the same themes. My analysis of Von Olfer’s depiction of family, sisterhood, and agency is informed by Shawn Jarvis’, Karen Rowe’s, and Jeannine Blackwell’s research on fantasy narratives.2 These scholars concur that fairy tales originated primarily as parts of a female oral tradition, which, after the Grimm brothers, Hans Christian Andersen, and even Johann Wolfgang von Goethe appropriated it, was then reclaimed in women’s literary Sophie Journal, Volume 1, 2007 Copyright © 2007. All Rights Reserved. Sophie Journal circles such as the Kaffeter. An additional cornerstone for my understanding of von Olfers’ subversive tale is Jack Zipes’ research on the metamorphosis of fairy tales as “an enrichment process” that gives birth to something new and unique in its own right.3 Zipes welcomes counter narratives as “progressive” since they frequently challenge the canonical narrative’s “sexist and conservative […] approach to […] gender, justice, and government.”4 The modus operandi in Speaking Out, Zipes’ urban story-telling project, aims to alert youngsters to the manner in which canonical tales “reveal[] the triumph of the oppressed” while their conclusions often “involve[] a restoration of the status quo with power largely in the hands of men” (115). My study builds on the critical observations made by Jarvis, Rowe, Blackwell, and Zipes in an attempt to delineate von Olfers’ literary recasting of the conventional quest for autonomy. Marie von Olfers (1826-1924), the daughter of Berlin’s Museum director Ignaz von Olfers, and his wife Hedwig Stägemann, herself the child of a poet, was a co-founder of the Kaffeterkreis (1843-1848), a mid-nineteenth-century alliance of adolescent fairy tale writers and daughters of the German- speaking polite society.5 Their circle arose in response to male literary associations such as Berlin’s famous Gelber Salon, in which Marie’s father entertained the intelligentsia of the city. Although in 1846 the Kaffeter admitted the Grimm brothers and Hans Christian Andersen as honorary members, the circle remained primarily an association for women. The narratives that the Kaffeter members comprised re-imagine in terms of gender models the conventional fairy tale world.6 Early on, Marie von Olfers already demonstrated 2 Copyright © 2007. All Rights Reserved. Not Another Grim(m) Tale particular talents for drafting and illustrating tales, for which the Kaffeterkreis became a well-suited outlet. Initially, she used such narratives as mere catalysts for inspiration and salon conversation, while later her tale “Little Princess” and other narratives also enjoyed great popularity for their charming illustrations.7 Unfortunately, her skillfully comprised fairy tales are all but forgotten.8 Hence, few readers today are familiar with the tale of the “Little Princess,” which traces adolescent (self-) discoveries and quests for autonomy (wish fulfillments) prior to culminating in the collaboration of two women characters. The narrative simultaneously depicts the coming-of-age stories of a penniless girl and that of a prosperous water sprite. Both characters must explore spaces outside of their homes. Mesmerized by the shimmer and sparkle of life under the sea, a curious adolescent, nicknamed “little princess,” trades her nurturing home for the underwater riches of a friendly, equally adventurous sprite. As the human child takes possession of her new residence, she learns that life under water, as glorious as it may seem, lacks the tenderness of her all too distant mother. The nix, in turn, gains ‘a soul’ by learning to reciprocate the love she receives from her human foster family. At last, the narrative concludes with the mutual agreement of both heroines to live as sisters and share the embrace of the girl’s impoverished mother. As if to emphasize the merits of following one’s inclination, the tale initially entices readers to take sides while it depicts two seemingly different protagonists. One heroine, adored by her mother and guarded by a “horde of rowdy brothers,” grows tired of her family’s decrepit financial disputation. She embodies the ambition to break free from Copyright © 2007. All Rights Reserved. 3 Sophie Journal home (217).9 The other protagonist, the sprite, seeks nothing more than a parent’s loving embrace. As von Olfers juxtaposes the hopes of leaving home and those of seeking it, the ostensibly simplistic plot conceals a rather significant complication in terms of its interpretation of the family. “Little Princess” adheres to and simultaneously breaks with conventional fairy tales, in that, much like a number of Grimm tales (“Cinderella” or “Snow White”), the narrative unfolds in a single parent home; yet this is not a conventional fairy tale plot in which the mother figure is erased.10 Instead, in von Olfers’s tale the patriarch is absent. Given the absence of the father figure, a number of Grimm tales prescribe the restoration (i.e. remarriage) of the conventional family structure with a male figure at its center.11 Yet, in von Olfers’ story, the absent patriarch has no consequence on the plot nor does the author give reasons for the absence. As an alternative, readers learn that this single parent home is a true haven and far from imperfect, even in the mind of the restless heroine, who eventually gives in to her Wanderlust. According to the little princess, it would simply take a few material things, fancy clothes, servants, a palace, but not a traditional father figure, to make her home ‘ideal.’ While the narrative steers clear of anchoring the family structure with a male breadwinner, it inadvertently validates an equally functional, less conventional family model with a loving but penniless matriarch at its center. The presence of a caring parent, paired with one’s belief that a character’s sole pursuit of material goods rarely ends in her/his autonomy, may lead the reader to conclude that the little princess’ quest for riches is imprudent and perhaps motivated by her naïveté. Yet, unlike a number of Grimmian tales that 4 Copyright © 2007. All Rights Reserved. Not Another Grim(m) Tale reprimand high-strung heroines – one need only to think of the haughty bride in “King Thrushbeard” or the conceited daughter in “The Frog King” – von Olfers’ tale does not denounce the resolve of the heroine to determine her destiny.12 The little princess, as well as the heroines in “King Thrushbeard” and “The Frog King,” seek forms of autonomy, but they do so for different reasons. Given that the above-mentioned Grimmian leads eventually must take husbands, the life of von Olfers’ heroine stands out because marriage and motherhood do not hamper her ambitions. Instead of reinforcing the Germanic literary convention of the nineteenth century to silence and/or domesticate goal-driven women protagonists, the narrator of “Little Princess” sympathizes with the aspiration of the adolescent heroine and, therewith, validates her quest for a better life. Next to endorsing an unconventional family structure and directing attention to the women in her tale, the narrator renders a less sympathetic description of the only male characters, namely the heroine’s siblings. Indeed, she suggests that the peasant girl’s “stately” (217), “stolz” (26) disposition and explorer spirit (“Now I am a princess” 217, “Jetzt bin ich eine Prinzeß” 28) predestines her for a splendid life, whereas her simpleton brothers lack imagination and drive.13 They aspire to nothing more than to remain “coarse peasant boys” (218), uninspired to enhance their lot (i.e. to “become princes” 218).14 While her siblings content themselves with playing in mud puddles, their sister ventures to the water’s edge, taken with the rushing, sparkling water. At first glance, von Olfers’ linking of her young explorer with the watery domain seems to contradict the author’s break with conventional gender types, given that Copyright © 2007. All Rights Reserved. 5 Sophie Journal throughout literary history, prominent authors imbued water and its creature with notions of passivity and sentiment while linking it with the concept of the eternal feminine (“das ewig-weibliche Element”).15 Among the representations of the watery element, specifically the mermaid signals treachery, envy, deceit, or demise; Goethe’s poem “The Fisher” (“Der Fischer” 1775), his fairy tale titled The New Melusine (Die Neue Melusine 1816), Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid” (“Den Lille Havefrue” 1835), and the Grimmian tales “The Little Water Nixie” (“Die Wassernixe: 1812) and “The Nixie in the Pond” (“Die Nixe im Teich” 1843) make up but a few of many literary examples.16 “The Fisher” and the Grimmian tales depict the mermaid as a reclusive, even deadly temptress. It is perhaps for the imagined fatal quality of

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